The Vampire's Votary
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Votary: a devoted follower or admirer - It's been a year since Sherlock confessed that his desire for Molly was about much more than her blood. She asked him to sire her; he asked her to wait for six months. Then he made her wait six more! Much has happened in those 365 days but on their anniversary, Molly makes a request that he simply can no longer refuse.
1. Vacillation

_This is a follow-up to "The Vampire's Vice"_

 _First and foremost I have to thank Mellovesall for the beautiful artwork (that can be found on AO3 and my tumblr blog) she made for this fic. She's brilliant and one of the sweetest people I have the privilege of knowing. Secondly, thanks go to Mizjoely for her amazing beta work. Without her input, I would be lost. And lastly, to MrsMCrieff for her Brit-picking and general awesomeness!_

 _I love you ladies._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Vacillation -** (vacillation **:** _a state of indecision or irresolution_ )

* * *

It had been a year!

The infuriating man - vampire - had made her wait a whole year. After six months, when Molly had given him her decision just like he'd asked, he had made her think about it for another six long damn months.

" _...I_ am _respecting your decision, Molly. Now you need to respect mine. We've only lived together for a short time. You've only seen my life - up close and personal - for three months. You need this, we need this and on Halloween if you still want it I'll do it. I'll Turn you."_

 _Angry, Molly spun away from him, not wanting him to see the betrayal in her eyes. "Or will you make me wait another year, or two, or twenty?"_

 _She felt his hands on her shoulders and immediately relaxed in his embrace. "No, my love. No more waiting. If you decide that this is what you truly want, I will give it to you. And I will never doubt my decision."_

" _Six more months, Sherlock," she said with a sigh._

Today marked their 'anniversary'.

It was surprisingly _not odd_ to date a vampire, Molly found. Adjusting to his habits took no time at all. She had spent quite some time with him and his new abilities prior to the start of their relationship and was quite used to his stealthy movements and unending need for her blood.

Neither failed to turn her on.

She had managed to stay in her own flat for nearly three months before Sherlock's whinging and periodic (but not so stealthy) transfer of her belongings to 221B made her give up the ghost, so to speak. There was no point in denying him; it was where she wanted to be.

Sherlock had always kept odd hours, requiring less sleep than the average human, but since being Turned he could stay awake for days at a time with no real repercussions. He did eat, of course, but only for pleasure. For nourishment he needed blood, usually Molly's but he was very careful not to take too much and he almost always fed during sex.

Everyone in his life (the important people) knew about his transformation. He had quite the support staff. Mrs. Hudson was a rock, nothing fazed that woman! Her only real complaint was that, due to Sherlock's overly sensitive hearing, she could no longer blast her music as loud as she wanted. Molly loved that ornery old broad.

John and Mary acted, as they had from the beginning, like nothing had changed. Though in that first month after the incident, Molly knew that John had spent several sleepless nights sobbing in his wife's arms for what his best friend was going through and what lay ahead.

Their friendship humbled her. Molly had had close friends, but nothing like what John Watson and Sherlock Holmes shared. It was a beautiful thing to behold.

From day one, Mycroft had treated the whole situation like a project, throwing himself into the Vampire Unit as if it was suddenly the single most important item on his agenda. He wasn't fooling Molly though; vampires weren't important. His baby brother was.

Greg just shrugged when he found out, saying that the existence of vampires explained a lot. Outwardly he seemed unaffected, but he had confided in her that he was worried for his friend. After she had moved in with Sherlock, he stopped by the lab one day. They had kept their relationship mostly to themselves up to that point.

" _So," he said, hands in his pockets, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "You and Sherlock?"_

" _Ahh, yeah. How'd you..?"_

" _I had to ask him about a case this morning. I've never seen lady's undergarments at Baker Street before," he said shyly, his cheeks turning a bit pink. "He proudly proclaimed that they belonged to you and that you belonged to him." Shaking his head, he added, "Almost like he was threatened by me or somethin'."_

Damn _. "Yes, well... "_

 _Looking down at the floor, he asked, "Are you happy, Molly? Is this what you want? Even with him…"_

" _Yes, Greg. I'm very happy," she answered definitively._

 _He heaved a great sigh, seemingly relieved. "Good. That's… that's great. He needs someone, you know. He…" Lunging forward, he enveloped her in a tight hug. "I'm happy for you… both."_

" _Oh, Greg," she said, rubbing his back to comfort the man._

" _I was worried about him," he said into her neck._

 _She pulled back, smiling at this wonderful man who cared so much for her Sherlock. "I was too. But he will be fine, I think."_

" _How could he not, Molls? He's got an amazing woman."_

 _She blushed and went back to her microscope_.

All that being said, there _were_ difficulties, ones she had never foreseen. Small things like the time Sherlock picked up a poker to stoke the fire and immediately dropped it, cursing like it was the devil himself. Evidently, it was an antique and made of pure iron. _Note to self: don't touch iron,_ Molly thought as she hid a smile watching the detective kick the innocent implement across the room.

And, of course, Sherlock felt more compelled to take on vampire-related cases. _Who better?_ he had argued. He was right; however, it didn't make Molly sleep any easier knowing that he was out there fighting the one thing who knew all his weaknesses.

Molly had made her decision on the night they had first made love but in the intervening months, she had come to understand his reluctance. The most difficult part to adjust to was his hunger. When he was hungry… he was _very_ hungry and cranky- no, he was utterly unbearable. He was like a forty year old toddler in the midst of some kind of supercharged low-sugar induced tantrum. Nothing but blood could satisfy him, of course, and he would pout and storm around until he got what he needed. Though he was never violent with her, there were times that Molly genuinely feared that he was very close to taking what he needed, no matter how depleted she was.

He had only truly frightened her once, but the display had shaken her to the core. It had also very nearly broken them...

 _Since she'd moved in Sherlock had been much better about keeping her informed as to his well-being. A case had kept him away for nearly two weeks and Molly hadn't heard from him in four days. At three am she received a frantic phone call from John warning her of Sherlock's impending arrival. The doctor also warned her to be careful; it was incredibly foreboding._

 _Molly instantly checked the fridge, making sure that there was an ample supply of blood (Mycroft was usually quite good at keeping them supplied now that he was working even more closely with the Vampire Unit of MI6)._ Three bags, damn. _She would have liked to have had more, but it would have to do. He could have those and then, when his hunger had abated, he could feed from her to replenish him from the apparent days of neglect he'd put his system through._ Bloody-minded idiot, _Molly cursed as she absently wiped off the already clean kitchen table._

 _Five minutes later, the detective came charging through the door of the flat; the kitchen door, not the front room door as usual. One look at his appearance and she froze, not running to him and throwing her arms around him as was her instinct._

" _Sherlock," she said, taking a step back until her hips hit the counter. "Are… are you okay?"_

 _He didn't speak but she watched as his eyes changed from blue to a shocking violet. Usually the sight turned Molly into a wet, trembling mess. This time, however, the accompanying look he gave her made her shiver with fear, not arousal._

" _We have three bags. Do you want me to heat them up?" she asked, gesturing to the fridge._

 _The vampire, because that's all he was at that moment- it was clear as day- just shook his head._

" _Are you not hungry? John said…"_

" _I_ am _hungry, Molly dear, but this time cold blood simply won't do," his voice was gruff and desperate._

" _Ah, of c-course. Bedroom?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady; the stammering certainly didn't help. She knew he would never deliberately harm her, but in this state… God, she'd never seen him so out of control. He'd barely moved but he was radiating power and need._

 _It was just as John had explained; Sherlock was starved. He had been so focused on the case that he'd foregone feeding, even against John's repeated reminders. Apparently, the detective had had no more than six bags in the entire twelve days they'd been working._

 _Molly could admit that she was terrified._

" _I'm afraid I don't have time for seduction, love," he growled. "I need you_ _ **now**_ _."_

 _She never even saw him move. Suddenly he was on her, pressing her hard against the edge of the counter. Her jumper and tee shirt were gone in seconds, ripped to shreds, pieces of fabric littering the room. He had never done it before, but this time in his frantic attempt to rid her of her garments, he had managed to leave several small scratches and a few deeper gashes on her torso and arms._

 _Molly repeatedly called out to him, trying to get his attention - to reach Sherlock, not the vampire - but it was useless. She fought against his unnatural strength pointlessly as she tried to escape his attack._

" _Oh yes, Molly." He inhaled deeply. "It's been so long since I could smell your fear. It's intoxicating, my love," he drawled, cupping both of her breasts in his hands as he lowered his mouth to her throat. At that moment she tried her best to relax, not wanting him to further injure her while he bit. There was nothing she could do to stop it and fighting would only make it worse._

 _Sinking his elongated_ _cuspids into her carotid artery, he_ _drew her blood up through the hollows within the teeth at alarming speed. His hands tightened on her breasts, then pinched her nipples painfully as he fed from her._

 _He usually took his time, starting and stopping leaving her begging him to finish her- to make her come. But he was right, this was no slow seduction. He was simply taking what he wanted, what he needed._

 _There was no slow build of orgasmic tension this time, only pain and loss. Within minutes Molly felt herself growing weak. Then came a strange tingling sensation, as if_ _paresthesia was setting in across her entire body at once. Light-headedness soon followed and she knew he was taking too much._

" _Sherlock… please," she managed weakly. "You have to… too much..." Feebly bringing her hand up to his shoulder, she gripped him as tightly as possible. "You're... hurting… me…too much…"_

 _Thankfully, her pleas and possibly the feeding finally worked. The vampire relented, pulling away and looking into her eyes. "M-Molly?" he asked, sounding much more like her Sherlock than before. "_ _ **Oh, God! Molly!**_ " _His voice bellowed so loudly it made her head pound with pain. "What have I done?"_

 _She felt her body being lowered to the floor and saw the blurry image of her lover's face contorted with fear. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his eyes moving over her body._

"' _Sokay, I'm fine," she said, or tried to at least. She wasn't sure if the words ever really left her mouth._

 _The last thing she remembered before losing consciousness was Sherlock wrapping her up in a his coat and then the weightless feeling of flight._

 _She woke up in an unfamiliar hospital room. A stoic woman dressed in an antiquated nurses uniform complete with old-fashioned cap was hanging a bag of blood from an IV pole. Molly was covered in several heavy blankets, the bottom one was clearly heated, and found that she was tucked in not unlike her mum used to do when she was sick with the flu._

" _How long have I been here?" Molly asked, her voice rough and scratchy._

" _Ten hours and eleven minutes," the nurse answered without looking at down._

" _Is Sherlock here?"_

" _Young Mr. Holmes is meeting with his brother. They've been gone a while."_

" _Can I have something to drink?"_

" _I'll get you a pitcher of water and see about some juice. It would certainly help things if you can manage to keep it down." And with that, the emotionless woman swept out of the room._

 _The juice was helpful, even more so than the water. Molly drank three glasses. About an hour later Mycroft came in looking solemn and even more serious than usual._

" _Good afternoon, Molly. Are you feeling more like yourself?" he asked as he took a seat next to her bed._

" _Yes. But I'd like to know what the hell's going on."_

" _I assumed as much," he said, adjusting his waistcoat as he crossed his legs. "It seems that Sherlock had gone far too long without feeding and arrived at Barker Street early this morning in a… well, the experts call it_ blood lust _. Barbaric term, but apt nevertheless."_

" _He fed from me," Molly said as she started remembering the events prior to losing consciousness. "Too much. He took too much blood."_

" _Indeed. Far too much, I'm afraid. You were nearly gone by the time he delivered you to the emergency workers here at the VU. They've given you four units so far and it seems you will need at least two more." Pausing, he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Sherlock asked to be admitted. He wants to stay here as one of the permanent residents."_

 _Molly gasped. She was aware that some of the vampires chose to live at the facility rather than integrate into society. Some weren't given a choice at all. The government provided everything they needed: housing, blood, education, entertainment. And of course they were allowed visitation from their family and friends. It was a prison; a very elaborate, very expensive prison._

" _Why would he ask that, Mycroft?"_

" _Because he thinks he is a threat," the older man explained. "To your safety."_

" _He didn't mean it," she argued._

" _I know. But he is adamant."_

" _I need to see him."_

" _That's not going to happen, Molly. I'm sorry. Also, he's requested for you to stay in the flat. It's yours now. He says he will no longer be a part of your life but he wants you to have a place to live. He was very clear on that point."_

" _Bugger the flat and bugger his point! I want to see him!" She tossed the heavy blankets off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed._

 _Mycroft took her hands gently in his. "Molly, he won't be swayed. John, Mary and I have tried for several hours. He's… I am sorry."_

 _She was released two days later without having seen Sherlock once. No matter how many fits she threw, no matter how much she begged or raged, she was refused. John offered to pick her up, but she wanted to be alone. Arriving at their flat was even more heartbreaking than she had imagined. Baker Street was part of him. He was infused into the walls, the floorboards, the very air she breathed._

 _By the end of the first week, Molly thought that she was going to go mad. She had gone back to work two days prior but even her beloved morgue offered no comfort. St. Barts was just as much a part of them as their home._

 _Before leaving the VU she had discovered that he had changed his mobile number and no one would give her his new one. She had taken to leaving desperate messages on his blog and sending long rambling emails, begging him to come home._

 _Finally, nearly a fortnight after she'd started back to work, Molly received a late night text message from an unknown number._

 _ **Are you okay?**_ _it read._

 _Her hands were trembling as she typed her reply._ _ **Sherlock?**_

 _ **I just want to know if you're all right, Molly. They won't tell me,**_ _came the return message._

 _ **God, Sherlock! Come home, please. I'm fine. Perfectly fine.**_

 _ **Good. I was worried.**_

 _She gripped her phone as she considered her next message. Finally she typed,_ _ **I lied.**_

 _ **What?**_

 _ **I lied. I'm not okay. I'm not fine.**_

 _ **What is it? What's wrong?**_

 _ **My heart is broken**_ _, Molly typed._ _ **It's broken and empty and I've never felt so alone.**_

 _There was a long pause and she was afraid that she'd lost her one shot at communicating. But then…_

 _ **I don't know if I have a heart anymore, Molly. But if I do, mine's broken as well.**_

 _A sob escaped her as she curled up in their bed, cradling the device like it was Sherlock himself. Finally, she got herself together and typed,_ _ **Come home to me, Sherlock. I need you.**_

 _ **How can you ever forgive me?**_

 _ **There's nothing to forgive,**_ _she replied._ _**You weren't yourself and you will never do it again.**_

 _After another interminably long pause, his message came through._ _ **I am afraid of hurting you. I can't bear the thought of it.**_

 _ **And I can't bear the thought of never seeing you again, of never touching you. I need you so much it hurts. I miss talking to you, Sherlock. I miss kissing you and holding you. I miss making love and, even though it scares you and you probably don't believe me, I miss feeding you my blood. I think I might die if I can't give myself to you ever again.**_

 _Seconds later her mobile rang, scaring the shit out of her. "Sherlock?" she answered._

 _He didn't speak for nearly a minute, but Molly gave him the time he needed._ "I… I'm afraid that I'll do it again."

" _You won't. You'd never hurt me!"_

"I did!" _he said in a desperate growl._

 _She drew a deep breath, not wanting to push him too far, he was clearly having a hard time dealing with his actions that night and she needed to find the right words to bring him home. Finally, after a minute or so, she said, "Sherlock? Do you remember our first night together?"_

"Of course I do."

" _You were so shocked that I wasn't afraid of you. You thought that I no longer trusted you because of your change. But that wasn't true. I trusted you, I've always trusted you, Sherlock. I just was scared for you to know that I was sexually affected. I was… afraid that you'd think less of me. I was embarrassed and ashamed because I didn't think you felt the same. I thought that you only wanted my blood, not me…"_

"That's not true, Molly…"

" _I know. And when you told me that all of my fears melted away. All I could do was give myself to you… completely."_

"What are you saying?"

" _I'm saying that we had to get through that awful discussion to get to the beautiful love making afterwards. Loving isn't always easy or painless. Sometimes, oftentimes, it hurts. Sometimes, maybe, you have to nearly kill the person you love most to learn that you have to feed everyday…."_

"That seems very specific to our circumstances, Molly."

 _She allowed herself a tiny laugh. "This isn't a normal relationship, Sherlock, and we can't treat it like it is. You made a mistake. You forgot to eat and lost control, but I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I know you will never put us in that situation ever again."_

 _It was silent for several minutes; she kept checking her screen to make sure he hadn't hung up. But he never did._ "Your lips were blue," _his said in a small voice._

 _She didn't respond._

"I hesitated, you know. I almost opened my wrist and fed you. But I couldn't take that choice away from you, not like…"

" _It's what I want, Sherlock. You know that."_

"Not yet. Not after what I did."

" _Are you saying it's no longer an option?" she asked, afraid of his answer._

"Halloween, Molly. You can tell me on our anniversary."

 _Tears of joy filled her eyes. "Does that mean you're coming home?"_

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," _he said._ "But you must understand something, this is very important. Even though you have forgiven me, I've yet to forgive myself."

" _Okay, fine. I can live with anything as long as you come home."_

"Molly…"

" _Yes?"_

"I love you."

 _It took weeks for things to go back to normal, but they did… eventually. To the rest of the world Sherlock Holmes might have seemed like an over-confident detective with a clever mind and an impressive swagger, but Molly knew better. He had so many doubts and insecurities. No one saw his vulnerability the way she did._

 _He treated her with kid gloves for three weeks, barely touching her and never feeding from her directly. Worst of all, they had yet to make love since his return. Finally, after days of distance and painful silence he crawled into bed one night, his eyes showing just a hint of fear, his hands trembling as he reached for her._

" _Molly," he said as he gently gripped her hip, pulling her to face him. "I need you." The desperation in his voice made her heart ache and her stomach flip. "If you're not ready, however…"_

" _Sherlock. I've been ready."_

 _Her words seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear. He took her that night with unbridled passion like she'd never experienced. Bringing her to the height of ecstasy over and over again before he ever entered her with either his cock or his teeth._

 _She lost count of her orgasms as he devoured her like a starving man whose hunger could only be quelled by the juice of her quim. He whispered filthy, loving praise about her body and her taste, about her tightness and her wetness._

 _Molly was completely lost in the dreamlike haze of hormones and endorphins when he finally rose up above her. Faintly, she heard him asking if she was ready for him._ Ready? _she thought,_ there's more? _unable to focus on the fact that they hadn't actually made love yet. Then he entered her and her world narrowed down further, tunneling to a single point where only the two of them existed. He was in her, on her, surrounding her. His cock, his body, his mouth, his scent. His love. She heard the distant sound of someone begging for something, asking for more._ Oh, that's me. _It seemed like a selfish request; he was already giving her everything._ He _is everything. What more could she want?_

 _And then she knew... When she felt his teeth pierce her throat slow and steady, she knew what she'd been asking for._

 _It was utter perfection._

 _He drank until they both reached their final glorious completions, calling out to one another, screaming until their throats were raw and there were no words left._

 _Sherlock collapsed on top of her, actually a bit sweaty (which was a feat, the vampire didn't often sweat these days, another new discovery), and Molly was vaguely aware that he was whispering something against her chest._

" _What… what are you saying? I can't hear you."_

 _At length, Sherlock rose up and brushed Molly's damp hair off of her face. "I said… I was afraid that I'd ruined everything."_

" _Sherlock…" Molly started as she stroked his back._

" _But you were right, of course. I will never lose control again. I promise."_

" _I know you won't."_

" _At least not in an unpleasant way," he said with an absolutely sinful smile on his face._

* * *

Molly had taken the day off; she wanted to be prepared for their evening. The flat was immaculate; never had 221B ever looked so good. She had taken a long bath and shaved… everything. It wouldn't be permanent, even after she Turned. Her hair would continue to grow, as would her nails. Sherlock's did. In fact occasionally he would let a bit of a beard grow in. It looked terribly handsome on him and it felt divine on her when he buried his face between her thighs.

Not all the lore surrounding vampires was true, as it turned out. Some of course, but not all. Sherlock _could_ go out during the day, he was just more sensitive to sunlight than he had been in the past. He could see himself just fine in a mirror and had no problem with either salt or garlic. Christian crosses were of no consequence to him. He had no special love of them, of course, but never had before so that wasn't surprising. He did have to be invited into private homes, however, something Molly found endlessly amusing and had used to her advantage after one particularly bad fight just before she'd moved into Baker Street.

After the bath, she coated her body in her favourite oil. A gift from Sherlock, he'd made it himself and often enjoyed rubbing her down from head to toe in the fragrant mixture of Egyptian Sandalwood and Bergamot.

As she had prepared herself, anointing her body in his gift, she concentrated on presenting herself in a pleasing way for her lover and kept her focus off of the concept of her upcoming death. Surprisingly, it wasn't that frightening. She had made peace with her decision. Her place was at Sherlock's side; she'd never been more certain about anything in her life.

That morning, when he'd left their bed, he had kissed her gently then said, "I have a few things to take care of today, but I will be home by six." He looked solemn, his voice was thick with apprehension. Molly wasn't at all used to this version of Sherlock.

Nodding in return, she kissed him again. "I love you."

"And I you," he replied before turning to leave.

Now, lying atop of the duvet in nothing but a silver dressing gown, she waited. He'd be home any minute. Her Sherlock wouldn't keep her waiting on today of all days.

* * *

 _I'd love to hear your thoughts. Please review and make my day! ~Lil~_


	2. Vicissitudes

_Thank you all for the reviews, faves and follows. Here's the second chapter; one more on the way. Big thanks to MizJoley for betaing this for me._

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - Vicissitudes -**

(vicissitudes: _successive, alternating, or changing phases or conditions, as of life or fortune; ups and downs_ )

* * *

She heard him moving through the flat, which was odd, he usually moved without sound. Listening intently, Molly tried to determine what he was doing. It sounded as if he had brought in something heavy. Then he was in the kitchen, opening the fridge door, for some reason. At _5.57_ he entered their room.

"Molly…" The way he said her name always caused the same reaction: instant want.

"Hello," she said, sitting up, putting her bare feet on the floor. Nerves were suddenly fluttering in her stomach. "All finished with your errands?"

"Of course." He removed his suit jacket and tossed it in the corner of the room.

All her work… As he toed off his shoes, he unbuttoned his cuffs and she suddenly didn't care about the state of the flat.

"You've had a busy day," he said, his hands traveling to his fly.

Molly watched with rapt attention, eager to see him bare himself for her. He didn't remove his trousers, though. Instead, he untucked his white shirt as he crossed over to her.

Tracing her jaw with his index finger, he tilted her face up to him. "You have something to tell me, don't you?" There was actually a tinge of hesitation in his voice. Did he doubt her? Did he think that she'd changed her mind in the year that had passed? Or was that awful night still playing in his mind? She could see it on occasion, his doubt- his fear. When those memories crept into his conscious Molly always did her best to make him forget, at least for the moment.

"I do," she said.

His finger traveled down her throat, tracing her carotid artery. "We should talk first. We've avoided certain... aspects." He looked regretful. "I should have done this months ago, however, I found myself enjoying you far too much to ruin things with talk of regrets and unfulfilled dreams."

Reaching up, she gripped his hips. "I've made my decision."

"I know. But we must discuss one very important element, Molly."

" _Sherlock…_ "

Quick as lightning, he picked her up, sitting on the bed with her on his lap. Burying his head in her neck, he mumbled, "God, woman, you smell magnificent."

"I'm ready."

"No, you're not. Not even close. But that's another discussion." Pulling back, he looked into her eyes, they'd already changed to a deep, inviting purple. "You want children, my love. If I Turn you, that will be an impossibility."

"You don't think I know that?"

"I don't think you've considered exactly what that means, Molly."

She slid off of his lap onto the floor between his knees. Running her hands up the well-defined muscles of his thighs, Molly looked up at him beseechingly. "I'd love to have a child with you, Sherlock. I'd love to feel them growing in my belly, raise them, teach them, guide them. But I can't. I cannot bring a child into this world and let you watch them die, watch me die. It's simply too selfish. As it is, we'll have to watch all of our family and friends wither and expire. I won't put you through that. And besides, I want to spend eternity with you."

One side of his mouth lifted. "We won't live forever, as it turns out, just a very, very, _very_ long time."

 _God, that smirk!_ "Please, Sherlock," she softly begged. "I'm already yours. Make me like you."

His violet eyes softened as he brushed her robe away from her collarbone. "You could never be like me, Molly. You are far too pure." Pushing the fabric further down her shoulder, he said, "You will be the most pristinely perfect vampiric creature ever known and I will worship you. I will devote myself to you- to your pleasure."

Molly moaned at his words, arousal slicking her thighs.

"I am your loyal subject, my dear lady. We have many lifetimes ahead of us and I intend to spend a great deal of that time worshiping at your altar."

" _Please_ ," she whispered, desperate for some relief. She'd been in a state of near constant arousal all day. His words, sounding almost disturbingly religious and sexual at the same time, had her ready to knock him on his back and mount him.

"You don't have to beg, though I do love the sound of it. Tonight, my love, I fear I'll be the one begging before you're through with me."

She wrinkled her brow in confusion.

Sherlock chuckled. "You'll see."

 _What the hell does that mean?_

"Move back just a bit?" he asked and she complied, scooting back a few inches. He slid off of the bed onto the floor. It shouldn't have been sexy, but it was. "Turn around."

With less grace than she would have liked, Molly turned, facing away from him, her gown tangling under her knees. After righting the fabric, she waited… impatiently.

He ran his hands down her satin covered hips, drawing her closer until his lips grazed her ear. "I've done extensive research as to how to make your Turning less… traumatic than mine."

This part had worried her. She remembered Sherlock's state when she found him after being attacked. _He was barely… no, he wasn't alive at all, was he?_ His throat had been ripped opened, his mouth covered in blood. _Her_ blood, as it turned out. Miss Adler's. That wretched bitch who had started this whole thing.

It rankled Molly more than she'd like to admit that Irene Adler's blood was actually the first that Sherlock had ingested.

After spurning her advances once again, the Dominatrix had drawn him out with a series of murders, knowing that Sherlock couldn't resist a puzzle. Thankfully, Molly had been with him that evening, though in another part of the abandoned warehouse, examining a body. Adler confronted him and when he refused her she'd taken her revenge and his life. Evidently, even a psychopathic vampire can have a bout of consciousness (that or she hoped in Turning him she'd finally win his now slow beating heart), because moments later she opened her wrist and fed him her own blood. None of this was known until two months ago when Adler was finally found and a confession was wrenched from her unwilling mouth. Sherlock had very little memory of the evening.

 _Mycroft had come over with a full report of the interrogation, informing them of everything he and his agents had discovered. Sherlock listened stoically, taking it all in, asking only pertinent questions with no hint of emotion._

" _She's being held for an indeterminate amount of time, brother," the older man said, sounding regretful and on the verge of violence at the same time. "But in honesty, she'll never be free again."_

" _Thank you, Mycroft," Sherlock replied without looking up._

 _The man appeared shocked at his brother's appreciation and Molly wondered if it wasn't the first time he'd ever heard the words._

" _Ah, yes, well…" He turned towards Molly. "Dr. Hooper," he said with a nod, then saw himself out._

 _Sherlock stood abruptly and ran for the loo. Seconds later she heard the sounds of retching coming from the room. Unfortunately, he had fed not a half hour before his brother's arrival. By the time Molly reached him Sherlock was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, blood and bile dripping down his chin onto his shirt._

" _Sorry," he croaked. "I… suspected, but…"_

 _Cleaning his mouth with a warm, wet flannel, Molly shook her head. "Don't. Just let me take care of you."_

Even though she remembered the evening he was Turned with trepidation, Molly couldn't help but feel excited at the prospect of taking this step with the man she loved.

Stroking her stomach through her dressing gown, he whispered against her throat. "I love you, and I refuse to hurt you."

It always hurt, a little, but she loved the slide of his fangs into her flesh. "I trust you, Sherlock."

"I know. I can't tell you how much that means to me." Drawing her bottom to his crotch, he ground his erection into the crack of her arse.

She bit her bottom lip, trying to contain herself. "Can we… will we be able to drink from each other?"

"Indeed. It won't offer as much nourishment, I'm afraid. That means more blood bags, but the euphoric aspect _will_ remain." He turned her face so that they were looking at each other. "Actually, from speaking to others, it seems that in most cases, that element increases… _immensely_ ," he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Now, Sherlock!"

Standing, he said, "As my queen wishes." He effortlessly picked her up and kissed her breathless or just shy of breathless; he had gotten better at remembering that Molly needed oxygen.

 _Not for long_ , she thought as he spun her around and sat her feet on the floor.

He untied her dressing gown, which was barely hanging on, and pushed it to the floor. "I want you one more time, Molly, like this. Is that acceptable?"

 _Anything_ , she thought, though she only nodded in response.

"I've been thinking about this evening for a year." His lips descended on her neck, licking, sucking, worrying her flesh between his teeth, no doubt leaving his mark. He always marked her, in many, many ways. "After we make love, I'll drain you, then feed you my own blood. I've prepared for this. It will be unpleasant to die, I cannot lie to you. It…" His eyes filled with tears.

Molly put her hands on either side of his face. "I know, my love."

Tears spilled. "I have to _kill_ you. Oh, God, Molly…" He pulled her to him, holding her so tightly it hurt, burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry," he sobbed.

"Shhh. It's okay. I want this. Shhh," she cooed, as she threaded her fingers through his hair. "I knew what I was asking of you, Sherlock. And I'm sorry you have to do it, but…"

He nodded against her neck. "I know… I know…" Suddenly, he pulled back and wiped his tears with his sleeves. She didn't even know he _could_ cry.

Stroking his damp cheeks with her thumbs, Molly said, "Just remember that this is a gift you're giving me. A gift I asked for."

"A gift you're giving me," he said reverently. "Lie down."

She lay on the bed, watching as Sherlock took a step back and turned around. She supposed that he needed a moment to collect himself. That was the most emotion he had shown since he'd come home to her after his blood lust incident. When he faced her once again, he was busy unbuttoning his Oxford. The fear and pain seemingly gone.

"Touch yourself for me, Molly. Make yourself wet for me."

"God, Sherlock, how do you suppose that I'm not already wet?"

He chuckled, a low, filthy sound as he tossed the shirt to the side. "Let me watch you. You know I love it."

Slowly, Molly slipped two fingers past her wet lips. Sherlock growled, quickly palming himself through his trousers before yanking them down. As per usual, he wore nothing underneath. She bypassed her aching clit and slid her fingers into her quim, bucking up to meet her own hand. "Want you," she moaned, as he kicked away the garment whilst holding his hard cock, stroking it methodically.

Crawling onto the bed, Sherlock insinuated himself between her knees. Molly spread her legs wide to accommodate him. "Keep going," he instructed, his voice even lower and more gravelly than usual, as he sat back on his heels, working his shaft.

"I'm gonna come!"

Just before she reached her peak, he pulled her hand free, shoving her fingers into his mouth and humming around the digits. After she'd been completely cleaned of her juices, he lowered his head and sucked her clit into his mouth.

She came within seconds, bucking wildly against his face, unable to form words to praise him for the pleasure she was experiencing. The growl that came from between her thighs was almost enough to send her into another orgasm, but he instantly let go, looking up at her with a satisfied grin. His face was obscenely wet with her arousal.

"I never tire of the taste of your cunt, Molly. It's second only to your blood in my mouth when you're coming around my cock!" Then he was back again, lapping at her lips, sucking them into his mouth, fucking her with his tongue.

His tongue was soon replaced by his fingers and Molly was hurtling toward another orgasm. This time she managed to call out his name as she came around his fingers.

But still, he didn't let up. It seemed he was hell bent on wringing her dry before he even took his first sip of her blood.

As she felt his tongue snake lower, skimming her perineum, she knew he was just getting started. _How much more can I take?_ she asked herself as she felt his thumb enter her back passage.

"Get that look off your face, Molly. I told you earlier that you weren't nearly ready and I meant it," Sherlock said, his head resting on her hip. "Besides, you love it when I play with this naughty bottom."

Somehow, she felt her face heat up even more at his filthy words. But he was right, he knew how to use her entire body. He'd yet to touch her in a way that didn't have her begging for more.

She was just on the brink of another orgasm when he pulled away, leaving her whimpering as his mouth and fingers left her feeling empty.

He moved over her, dragging his cock through her folds. "Are you ready for this?"

"God yes! Sherlock, please!"

He moved forward, plunging himself into her completely. " _Perfect_ ," he whispered, his eyes closed, looking completely at peace.

When he opened his eyes seconds later, they locked with hers, now an even more vibrant shade of purple. He didn't blink as he pulled out only to thrust back in hard and deep. It felt as if he were penetrating her with his stare as deeply as he was with his manhood.

"So... fucking... perfect," he grunted, punctuating each word with a thrust.

"More! I want more!" Molly begged.

"You'll have it all, my goddess." He picked up speed, now slamming almost violently into her. Lowering his head to her neck, he whispered, "I'll give you everything."

Molly felt his teeth enter her throat and she was completely lost. He was engulfing her, drinking her essence and pushing her higher than she had ever been before. Ecstasy coursed through her entire body. For a moment she thought she could feel the ends of her hair as the most intense orgasm flared from her core, touching every point of her being.

She waited for it to abate, but it simply didn't. The more he drank, the more she came. Whether it was one orgasm or a series of several, she didn't know. But it didn't stop. Not until…

She felt it again, the feeling of pins and needles. Starting in her fingertips and toes, her ears and the end of her noes. Then her lips. Shortly after, the ecstasy started to fade. It was replaced with a slow dawning.

Oddly, there was no pain as she'd anticipated and as Sherlock had feared. Only peaceful near-nothingness. _Near_ because she could still feel her lover's body on top of hers, still feel his cock inside her. She could still feel his fangs drawing her blood, his lips suctioned to her throat.

There was no sound, however, and no smell. She couldn't manage to open her eyes and her voice seemed to have stopped working. But that didn't stop her from trying to call out to him, to tell him that she was fine… _It's okay, my love. I'll see you soon._

* * *

 _Well... she's halfway there, I suppose. The next chapter is from Sherlock's POV. And Molly's a bit... different. Thanks so much for reading. Leave a review and make my day! ~Lil~_


	3. Vehemence

_So we're at the end (I *think*... since I thought I had ended this story last year) of our little vampire tale. Big thanks to Miz for betaing this! Quick warning: There be butt stuff in this chapter._

 _I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

 **Chapter 3 - Vehemence -**

(vehemence: _vigorous impetuosity; fury_ )

* * *

" _It'ssokay, love. Seeyasooon_."

Molly's words were barely audible and slurred together, but Sherlock understood them nevertheless. As he pulled away from her, he couldn't help the feeling of devastation that overtook him. Just seconds before he'd been near mindless in the throes of passion and feeding, now all he could feel was emptiness.

 _This_ was the moment he'd feared the most. From the second the words had left her mouth a year ago, Sherlock had known two things. One: Molly wasn't going to change her mind. Two: carrying out her wishes would be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

" _Molly_..?" he whispered, knowing there'd be no answer.

He had tried to prepare himself, but as it turned out, there was no preparing oneself for killing the most important person in their life. She really was gone.

Sitting back, he wiped his mouth, then checked his watch. He had a few seconds to collect himself before he needed to begin. After several deep yet pointless breaths, he stood, carelessly jerked on a pair of sleep pants, and hurried out the door. Moments later, he returned with an IV pole and a bag of warmed blood. _His blood._

Finding her vein was not at all difficult. He'd not completely drained her, just taken enough blood to stop her heart. His previous unsavoury habits combined with his new appetite made Sherlock an expert at vein hunting. Carefully, he slid the needle into the faint blue mark in the bend of her arm and secured it. Once he had the line placed all he could do was wait.

After months of research and consultation with the doctors and experts at the VU, he had come up with the idea of starting the process intravenously. His hope was that it would make her transformation much less painful than his own. He also hoped that taking her blood more gently and during lovemaking would keep her from experiencing extensive memory loss. Though Sherlock was more than grateful that the recall of his Turning was spotty at best, he knew Molly would prefer to remember this night.

He watched for a few more moments as his blood emptied into Molly's limp figure before getting up to find a flannel to clean her neck. The bite mark over her carotid had already healed, but some blood had escaped as he had fed. Mostly, he just felt like he needed to be doing something while the woman he loved lay lifeless in their bed.

Finally, the bag was empty. After replacing it quickly, Sherlock retrieved a scalpel and sliced his wrist. One bag should have been enough to start the process, but he wanted to feed her directly as she took the subsequent bags. He _needed_ to feel that connection with her.

Molly's mouth didn't move for exactly twenty-six seconds.

Those were the longest twenty-six seconds of Sherlock's life.

Then… she started to suck. So gently at first that he hardly felt it, but the light pressure against his flesh was quite possibly the best thing he'd ever felt.

She was alive… well, sort of.

He looked up and saw that bag was draining much quicker. Molly's instincts were drawing the blood into her body, sucking it through the tubing at an alarming speed. The bag was empty within a matter of minutes.

Sherlock pulled his wrist away, causing Molly to moan in frustration, and rushed for another bag of his blood. After hanging it, he gave her his wrist again. She was much more alert now, bringing her hands up, holding his arm in place.

" _Fucking hell_ ," he mumbled as she fed. She was already incredibly strong. Her small hands held him tightly, her nails cutting into his arm as she drank from his vein. He wasn't sure if it was natural upon waking; there had been varying reports from the other vampires at the VU about their Awakenings. Some felt hungry, others tired, while a few felt alert and quite powerful. Sherlock hypothesised that it had to do with the amount of vampire blood that had been imbibed directly after, but he had no concrete evidence. Most didn't know or remember their Sire.

He was distracted, checking on the bag once again, when he realised that Molly had let go of his arm. Looking down, he found her staring at him through bright fuchsia coloured eyes.

 _Pink?_ he wondered as he felt his cock hardening. He wasn't quite prepared for that. Though, admittedly, he hadn't speculated about Molly's colour much at all.

It was yet another thing he'd discovered at the VU. All vampires expressed some colour in their eyes when they fed or were hungry. It wasn't, as Molly had assumed, a mixture of blood and the existing colour, but more of an expression of personality, for lack of a better explanation.

" _Sherlock_ ," she said, her voice rough and low.

The fact that she recognised him instantly was a very good sign. "Yes, love. You're going to be fine."

She managed a shaky smile. "Told you."

"Of course you did." He wiped her face clean of his blood. "But right now you need to rest and take at least one more bag."

That drew her attention to the IV pole next to the bed. "Whose…?"

"It's mine. Don't worry. I have several bags of human blood as well, but let's see how you feel..."

She closed her eyes for a moment as her head lolled to the side. This time, the blood drained even faster. At least twice as quickly as before. By the time the bag was nearly empty, Molly was moaning, her arms and legs twitching as her head started to thrash.

"What's wrong, Molly?" Sherlock asked, leaning over the newborn vampire.

" _More_ ," she said with a groan, pulling him closer with surprising strength.

Perhaps it was time for the human variation. It was entirely possible that feeding solely on vampiric blood wasn't enough to provide the necessary nourishment she needed. "Let me get you one of the donor bags."

Shaking her head, she said, "You. Want you."

She had barely taken any from him directly. The blood in the bags had been drawn the day before. He had plenty to give.

"Of course." He started to reach for the scalpel again as the cut on his wrist had already mostly healed but Molly grabbed him, holding his wrist tightly. "What, my love? What do you need?" he asked, not understanding why she had stopped him.

" _You_ ," she growled before ripping the IV out of her arm and flipping Sherlock onto his back. "I need _you_ , Sherlock!" Her lips descended on his, forcefully wrenching them open; her tongue invaded his mouth, dominating, demanding.

It was like she was possessed. He had known that _if_ she woke up immediately and _if_ she wasn't ill from the Turning that there was a chance that she'd become frenzied. That was the reason he'd given her so much of his blood. He didn't want her experiencing the same all-consuming hunger that he vaguely remembered feeling. But this, this felt like something else altogether.

As she ended the kiss - which seemed to have gone on forever, especially now that neither of them needed to breathe - she pulled back, her fuchsia eyes sparkling with just a hint of malice. "Hungry, Sherlock," she growled.

How was she still hungry? He had given her plenty. "I told you, Molly, I have more blood. I can…"

Shaking her head, she leaned up further then scooted down his body. "I'm not hungry for blood!" she said before she literally ripped the sleep pants off of his body, exposing his half hard cock. She smiled, never taking her eyes off of his member. " _That's_ what I need."

When she took him into her mouth, Sherlock nearly bucked her off of the bed. Though his lover had gone down on him many, many times before, nothing compared to this. It felt like she was trying to suck the life out of him. He'd gone from half hard to granite in a millisecond.

She took him fast and deep. He could feel his cock going further down her throat with every pass. And her tongue! God help him it was magnificent! He was on the brink of coming within minutes.

"Molly!" he cried out, trying to warn her.

Suddenly, she released him, sitting back on her heels.

Sherlock stared, mouth agape as he watched her spread her legs and slip her hand over her hairless mound. "I'm gonna fuck you, Sherlock. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said as she rubbed herself.

All he could do was nod.

"Mmm…" She pulled her hand out, glistening with her juices, and he watched as it disappeared between his thighs. He thought she was going to stroke him with her wet hand until…

"Fuck, Molly!" He felt a single digit slip between his buttocks and play with the tight ring of his anus. He was _not_ prepared for that!

"Tell me to stop, Sherlock," she demanded. "Tell me you don't like it and I'll never do it again." Her voice was rough and sultry.

He opened his mouth to… well, he wasn't sure what he was going to say, still too shocked to really manage much. But then his desire took over, speaking for him. "Oh God, don't stop... _fuck_!" He found himself moaning as he pushed against her finger, urging her to go deeper. She didn't let up, prodding his pucker with a wicked grin on her face.

It wasn't as if this was a first for him, he'd just never expected it from Molly Hooper.

She moved her finger with skill, never too much, never too rough. She was clearly looking for something. The deeper she went, the closer he was to the edge. He had barely held off his orgasm before. Suddenly he was closer than ever. Then, she found what she was looking for. "Gonna… come!" he growled as she gently rubbed his prostate with the tip of her finger. _Fuck_ , he'd forgotten how good it felt and how it made him come like a madman. " _Molly…_ " He was trying to hold off - make it last - but she was pushing him to the brink.

"Come for me! We know you have an amazing recovery time." Her hand closed around his shaft as she skillfully worked his cock, all the while fucking him with her finger. "Do you feel it, love? That sweet burn at the base of your spine? That belongs to me and I want it! Give it to me, Sherlock! _Now_!"

As she lowered her head once again, he expected her to take him into her mouth, but she didn't. Her teeth entered his femoral artery instead and his world started to explode. She stroked him and fucked him and fed from him simultaneously and he felt as if his entire body was coming. He could feel it in every pore, every blood vessel, every hair follicle. It was beyond description!

His eyes were closed tightly as he trembled with aftershocks of the intense orgasm when he felt pressure on his chest. Looking up, he found his lover sat across his pectorals, a devious grin on her face. "My turn?" she asked, almost innocently.

"Of course, anything you want. Lie down," he said, more than happy to oblige.

Molly shook her head then started moving. Placing a knee on either side of his head, she reached forward, gripping his hair tightly. "Make me come, Sherlock." Her bright pink eyes shone with desire and something else he couldn't quite place. Power, perhaps. Was his beautiful, kind, gentle Molly a red? Her eye colour certainly leant to the possibility.

Reds, and variations such as pink or orange, usually meant stronger, more domineering personalities. Or at least that had been his experience at the VU. Blues tended to point toward intelligence and cunning. Sherlock, being an intellectual as well as a bossy, demanding dickhead most of the time, ended up with purple eyes. A combination of two strong traits expressing themselves even moreso when his vampiric personality took over. The brighter, more vibrant the colour, the stronger the vampire was in a general sense.

In other words, Molly was going to be _magnificent_.

"I'm waiting, Sherlock," she said, drawing his attention to the exposed quim hovering just above his face.

"Anything you wish, my love." He gripped her hips, bringing her beautiful, dripping cunt closer to his face, and then he feasted.

She truly was amazing. As soon as his tongue touched her labia, Molly sunk even lower, smothering him. Thankfully, he had very little need for oxygen and was able to lap at her folds with abandon as she ground against his face. _I love being a vampire,_ he thought as he sucked her clitoris into his mouth, causing his lover to thrash above him. She screamed out his name and he felt fluid splash against his chin as she came.

With unnatural speed, Molly extracted herself from around his shoulders and he looked up to find her kneeling next to his hip on the bed.

"Oh look!" she said, as her fingertips danced along his hip. "You're getting hard again." Taking his cock in hand as she laughed, almost evilly. "I've been right several times today. This must be what it feels like to be you."

She seemed perfectly healthy, though her aggressiveness was a bit worrying (if not incredibly erotic). By all accounts, everything had gone to plan, but… "Molly? Are you feeling okay?" he asked as she gently stroked him.

"Never better, my love! And how are you?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Ah, good. Very… good."

"Excellent! This feels incredible, Sherlock. I feel like I could fuck forever!"

 _Definitely too much vampire blood_. To his defense, he had been working purely on conjecture. But not being one to squander an opportunity, Sherlock sat up and pulled her into a passionate kiss. His blood would eventually filter through her system and she should, theoretically, return to normal. He just had no idea how long that would take.

As he broke the kiss he said, "Luckily for us, forever is just about how long we have. Now, what can I do to satisfy your newfound desire?"

She bit her lip adorably then said, "I have... ideas."

"Really? Such as?"

"Riding your cock until you can't walk," she answered, all playfulness leaving her tone. "Then riding it again."

 _Oh, fuck,_ he thought as he studied his lover. "What have I done?"

"You created a monster, Sherlock." She pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his thighs. "But, lucky for you, you have many lifetimes to tame me," she added as she leant down and captured his lips with hers.

 _Not a chance,_ he thought as he kissed the vampire he loved and planned to worship for as long as they 'lived'.

* * *

 _All right. PLEASE let me know if you liked it. I'd really love to hear from you. Thanks for reading. ~Lil~_


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